Some Kind of Torture
by Ranlie
Summary: A hungover Sara wakes up in Catherine's bed CS


Title: Some Kind of Torture  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Surprised?  
  
Summary: A hungover Sara wakes up in Catherine's bed.  
  
Notes: I'm a faithful G/S 'shipper, but I seem to write C/S better. If you don't like slash, you might want to avert your eyes. If you ido/i like slash, please feel free to review! This story is spoiler-free.  
  
***  
  
Too bright.  
  
Way too bright.  
  
Oh, god, this was some kind of torture. Sara felt around until she found a pillow that she could drag over her face. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recalled wine. Lots of wine. She moaned pitifully, and tried to think about how long she could justify staying in bed.  
  
Except...these sheets didn't smell like hers.  
  
Sara shot upright, sending the pillow careening off the edge of the bed. Catherine stood near the doorway, staring at her. "What?" she asked, one hand still on the door handle. "Are you going to be sick?"  
  
Sara blinked, willing her head the stop hurting enough for her to think. "I...I'm in your ibed/i," she exclaimed, as if that explained it all.  
  
Catherine arched an eyebrow. "You were drunk. You came to my Christmas party yesterday with the others. You fell asleep just before the guys had to go to work, so Nicky brought you up here." At the look of panic that flitted across Sara's face, she added, "You and I had last night off. You didn't miss a shift."  
  
That sounded reasonable. Sara did vaguely remember being lifted up and then put somewhere that was wonderfully warm and comfortable. But something still nagged at her.   
  
Sara risked moving her head enough to look down at the other half of the bed, which, from the look of the sheets, had obviously been slept in. "We slept together," she said, more as a statement of fact. God, why was her head still so fuzzy? This was getting embarrassing.  
  
"You were in the way on the couch, and I generally make a point of sleeping in my own bed," Catherine said, watching Sara's face settle into an expression of dismayed confusion. It was rare to see her so bewildered: she wondered if that was why it was so endearing. "I was just going to make some coffee. I'll brew an extra pot for you."  
  
"Coffee?" Sara asked hopefully. For the first time that morning, her head cleared somewhat. A smile flickered on her lips. "You have coffee. I think I'm in love."  
  
Catherine paused, as if waiting for something else, and then smiled a little too brightly. "Right," she said, leaving the room to allow Sara to wonder, in the moment before her stomach decided to rebel again, if she had said something wrong.  
  
***  
  
Catherine breathed in the smell of the fresh coffee, closing her eyes to better appreciate it. It was a Starbucks blend that she couldn't get enough of: it tasted of hazelnuts and cream and something more subtle. She wondered if Sara normally bothered with a proper coffeemaker, or if she just drank the instant stuff at home. Probably the latter, she figured: speed over quality.  
  
Unbidden, the image of Sara, asleep on the couch yesterday, rose to the fore of her memory. The others hadn't noticed when her eyes had closed and her head had dropped to the side. They hadn't even noticed when Catherine got up to retrieve the half-empty wine glass that was perilously close to being dropped from Sara's limp hand.  
  
And only Grissom had noticed when Catherine had brushed a lock of hair from Sara's face.  
  
They had looked at each other in that moment, and Catherine could remember Grissom's eyes widening with sudden comprehension as Warrick and Greg laughed at one of Nick's jokes.  
  
Catherine opened her eyes when she heard someone shuffle into the kitchen. It was Sara, looking much better than she had half an hour earlier: her hair was damp and tousled from her quick shower, and she was wearing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt that Catherine had forgotten she owned. Delight spread across her face when she spotted the coffee.  
  
"Excellent," she breathed, moving towards the empty mug that Catherine had put beside the coffeemaker. That, apparently, was as much as she was going to say before pouring herself a cup and taking a few tentative sips. A beatific smile spread across her face. "This is what I needed. And the real stuff, too. I usually only get instant."  
  
Catherine gave a little snort. "I'm surprised more of our murders don't come up as instant coffee poisonings."  
  
"It's fast!" Sara protested, but it was half-hearted and they both knew it. The coffee really iwas/i good. She tried for a diversion. "Where's Lindsey?"  
  
"In bed," Catherine said with a smile. "She refused to go to sleep until everybody else had left. Just between you and me and the goldfish, she thinks that Nicky's cute."  
  
Sara grinned over her coffee. "I'm sure Nick was flattered, though I think she's a little mature for him. And you don't have a goldfish."  
  
"I do too," Catherine countered. "It was cheaper than getting a dog. He stays on Lindsey's desk. His name is Gil."  
  
Sara blinked, disbelieving. "You're kidding." At Catherine's shrug, she let out a laugh, nearly spilling her coffee. "Did you tell Grissom?"  
  
"He said something about goldfish being fascinating creatures," Catherine said, rolling her eyes skyward.   
  
They laughed at that for a few moments, but when silence had settled again, they were both thinking about Grissom.  
  
"I thought you only slept for a few hours a night," Catherine said, casting about for a way to break the now-uncomfortable silence.  
  
"What?" Sara blinked, surprised at this apparent non sequitur. "Oh, yeah. Normally. How long did I sleep?"  
  
"Ten hours," replied Catherine. "I didn't think you had it in you."  
  
For a while, Sara didn't look as if she was going to reply, and Catherine had begun kicking herself for being intrusive when the other woman finally spoke up again.  
  
"I, uh, sleep better when I'm with someone," she said, and when Catherine looked closely, there was a definite blush to her cheeks, and Sara wouldn't look up from her coffee. "I mean, with someone I...know."  
  
Catherine gave her the kind of look that would have caused lesser women to stop in their tracks, but Sara wasn't watching.   
  
"I don't dream as much with someone else there," Sara continued, quieter now. "It was nice, sleeping with you." She studied a bubble floating around on top of her coffee, preferring to pay attention to it rather than meet Catherine's gaze, which felt as if it were boring into the top of her head.  
  
It took a good ten seconds before Sara gave up waiting for a reply, and, cheeks still blushing furiously, she looked up to say, "I should probably go..."  
  
But Catherine, with a frustrated sigh, had already crossed the distance between them. Before Sara knew what was happening, Catherine had tossed their coffee mugs into the sink, and pressed herself up against Sara's body, so close that Sara could feel Catherine's breath on her lips.  
  
"Are you going to kiss me yet?" Catherine said, a determined look in her eyes that left Sara nonplussed, at least until Catherine tilted her head down and pressed her lips to hers.  
  
Sara gasped, but didn't pull back. The kiss was firm but gentle, drawing Sara in even though she knew that she could ("and should!" wailed her logic) break away...and yet, even as her short-circuiting brain wondered if she could convince herself to run, cool fingers on the exposed skin at the small of her back made her arch forward into Catherine's body.  
  
The taste of Catherine lingered on her lips even when they had broken apart, leaving Sara breathless and Catherine satisfied. Neither of them tried to move away from the other.  
  
"Oh," breathed Sara.  
  
"It was nice sleeping with you, too," Catherine said, smiling at Sara's expression.  
  
Some of Sara's old wit reestablished itself, and she offered up a weak smile in return. "You could have told me before now," she said, "Instead of letting me make an ass of myself."  
  
"All the fun..." Catherine murmured, tilting her head so that her lips brushed against the sensitive spot between Sara's neck and shoulder. "...is in the chase." 


End file.
